Revenge
by snaregirl007
Summary: When she gets the chance to avenge the ones she lost, will she rise to the occasion? Hey all! Be sure to review! I want to hear from you, and the more reviews, the better it's going to be. Also, please follow! Thank you for taking time to read my little story.
1. Chapter 1

I turned the key, sighed, and pushed the door in. For the ten thousandth time, I laid my keys on the mantle, and walked to the fridge, cracking open a fresh brew. The sweet summer tones of the beer contrasted with the crisp spring day, but I didn't care. Grabbing my pack of Cowboy Killers, I walked outside and lit up.

Soon, I thought, this will all be different. The streets of Southie were alive with an energy seen once a year. Saint Paddy's Day was tomorrow, and the city was on the brink. The end of the cigarette burned down, so I tossed it and lit another.

Tomorrow, I start to avenge the ones I loved. The excitement coursed through my veins, I ran over the plan for the millionth time. The Russian bastards were looking to take over the land in Southie, and the people that were holding out had very little time left. One particular hole-in-the-wall bar, McGintys, had not paid up, even though their ban account was barely in the black. I idly wondered who all would get to witness me taking down part of the mob, and took another pull of my cig.

I put out the smoke and walked back inside the house. I found my knife, unsheathed it, and set about sharpening it. I took a moment to kiss the inscription- Tá sé ach mo charraig is mo shlánú tá sé mo chosaint; Ní bheidh mé ar athraíodh a ionad- before I got to work.

Each pull of the stone along the blade sharpened my resolve. The sharpening stone kept whistling and I went faster and faster until the blade was sharp enough to pierce skin upon light contact. My other two knives went much the same way, until I was satisfied with my own handiwork. Two more cigarettes, some dinner, and then to bed I reminded myself. Tomorrow was going to be a very telling Saint Patrick's Day.


	2. Chapter 2

Saint Paddy's day dawned cool, crisp, and a little gray. I pulled on my leather jacket and went outside for a smoke or two, bringing along my Irish Coffee for good measure. Today wasn't going to be as gloomy as I had previously thought, I decided, feeling the Bailey's start to sink in. Maybe I was just being a little but if a coward.

I sat in the chilly air and thought about these past ten years. My immigration, training, and now revenge. My cigarette burned my fingers and I threw it out. I had a couple hours to get down to the cage, check it, and then get ready for the rest of the day.

Showering in record time is so much easier when you brush your teeth in the shower, I thought as I wrapped myself in a towel. I threw on a gray tank top and some shorts, then began to wrap my hands in gauze. The cage demanded full protection, and I wasn't about to get hurt today. I began to quote Psalm 55 as I wrapped the cloth around my ring finger. I made sure the binding was loose enough to breathe and then I grabbed my duffel and jacket, locked the door, and headed out.

Southie was already the place to be, people milling in the streets with their green and crass words floating around. I pushed up the street, past people heading to their jobs and people taking a sick day to freak. It wasn't anything new. Alleys and fire escapes proved to be the fastest way to get to the cage, I found, and so I ascended the closest one to me.

Running and jumping from rooftop to rooftop was one of my small joys in life, I knew how to get across town in a matter of moments and it felt like I was flying. People didn't bump into you up here, there were no robberies this close to heaven. Sin was left on the ground among the filth.

When I had finally reached the states, I moved to New Orleans, which had some of the best buildings to train on. Some were tall, some not so, and so I had to learn to roll and not kill myself. The streets and lowlifes had taught me to fight, the roofs had taught me to fly.

I finally got about a block from the cage, and so I leapt from the four story building I was currently running on into a dumpster below. I flipped myself out and started methodically plodding down the street. This was no place for a woman to be, so I lifted the hood on my jacket, scanning the crowd.

The cage wasn't really a cage, instead it was an old warehouse converted into cage fighting rings and a boxing gym. The owner, Danny, was a big man of 40, salt and pepper speckling his hair and goatee. Danny had sort of taken me in when I got to Southie, and made sure I was safe. He had been impressed that a fifteen year old was able to fight like I had, and so he pushed me farther. That was eight years ago. Now, Danny wouldn't let me compete.

He was watching a training fight as I walked in, not something suprising. I yelled my greeting and headed to the locker room to drop my bag. When I emerged some time later, Danny's boys had quit fighting, and another contestant was sitting in the corner. Danny clapped me on the shoulder and then the top of my head.

"And hows the wee scrapper on this fine Saint Paddy's Day?" He asked, pushing me into the opposite corner.

"I'm alive, Danny." I said, cracking my knuckles and throwing a few punches into the air.

"You may not be here in a couple minutes!" Danny roared with laughter as I watched the gargantuan man on the other side stand up.

Shit, this was going to be exciting.

The big man didn't wait for the bell to start swinging. I ducked, dodged, and parried away from the bastard. It's not like that did any good, this man could have easily thrown me across the ring. And then some, as well. Fuck, I thought to myself. Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck.

Then, my chance. The big man swung too hard for my head, and missed by mere centimeters. I quick landed three hard blows on his side, then kicked his knee in.

He fell with a loud thud, unable to stand on his knee. I waited the three seconds, then went to help him up. The stupid bastard pushed me away so hard I landed flat on my ass, and then had to roll to get on my feet again.

"Rhiannon Margaret MacTaggert, somehow you get better in the ring every time you're in it." Danny said, handing me a cold beer. I hung my torso over the ring, taking a long pull.

"You're damned right I do." I said, smirking. I reached out for a cigarette, and Danny jovially obliged.

"Today's the day, Dan." I said, staring at the wall. "It's all going to be over tonight."

Danny looked up at me. "Don't get yourself killed. I cant lose my only lovely one." When he smiled at me, the wrinkles near his eyes became more pronounced. "And who the fuck's going to make me money, huh? You gotta stick around kid, this here's the only place for you."

I polished off my beer. "We're just going to have to see, Dan."


	3. Chapter 3

Darkness fell over Southie, cloaking the bright lights and cooling down the day. At my apartment, I prepared for what was about to come. I pulled on my worn jeans, too tight at the legs but flexible, my steel-toed boots, black tee and leather jacket. I stuffed my hair into a beanie, and put on my aviator sunglasses.

If I was going incognito, I was going incognito. I tucked my knives into their sheaths and clipped them to my forearms. Then, I took the smaller, throwing style ones and tucked them into a pouch in my boot.

I grabbed my wallet, key, a couple pairs of handcuffs and smokes. Then I left. I looked back at the apartment building for the last time. Sometimes, people get sentimental about the stupidest things. That apartment, no more than a bed, bathroom and kitchenette, had been my home for years. Here I was now, leaving one of two things that stayed constant with me.

I sighed, long and low, turned on my heel, and marched into the twilight. With every step, Danny's face came into view, usually with little tips for me to remember during my training.

"Remember, Rhi, you don't stab, you guide that bastard." "Rhi, your enemy may be better trained, stronger, and faster than you. Make sure you keep your head." "Don't die out there. Come back to Uncle Danny."

The thoughts were gone as soon as they had entered my head. This was not the time to get sentimental. This was my time to focus in. My mother and father were about to be avenged.

Dusk had settled, and luckily for me, McGintys was crowded when I entered. I sat down at a bar stool, away from most of the drunks. The elderly bartender shouted some sort of extremely lewd request in my direction, and I shouted for a whiskey sour.

He quickly prepared the drink, and asked- with a heavy stutter- if I'd like to open a tab. I nodded, and began to scan the bar. It was a real drab kind of place, just your typical hole in the wall. The bar was made of hardwood, and the stools were a mix-and-match of beer labels. There were two windows and a wine cooler on the walls, and various signed posters.

Slowly, the people started to drain out from this tiny bar. I must have had about seven drinks; I could feel myself start to lose feeling in my teeth. Chuckling, I killed the drink that Doc, the barkeep, had pushed down my way.

Doc and a gang of rough looking men were sitting chatting, and I was relatively unnoticed. This suited me fine; after all, it was better than I didn't make a splash. The men and Doc were all chatting when suddenly, Doc pulled out all the stops.

"Boys, I'm gonna shut down the b-b-b-b-b- FUCK ASS the bar." He said, sadly. I wanted to tell him what was going to happen. I wanted to warn these men about what I was about to do. It's better they don't know. It's got to be.

Doc had to explain why the bar had to be shut down, about the Russians and the mobsters. The young men let out general cries of anger, some heated words about fairness.

"Doc, you can't let them win, look, you've got a new fuckin' regular!" a particularly dirty shouted out, waving in my general direction.

I chuckled, and returned to my whiskey. They all stared and murmured about me, but only for a couple of minutes. It's almost time, I thought, checking my watch. I lit a cigarette, possibly my last. It's almost time, now.


	4. Chapter 4

As my cigarette burned down, I could almost taste my own excitement. Any time now, I thought.

And then it happened.

Chekov and two burly thugs walked in, straight up to the bar, and told Doc to shut down. The two men in the middle of the bar turned to them, and attempted to include them in their drinking, as if these three were human at all.

I sized them up. The two big ones would be easily taken out by two throws to the throat, but I wanted Ivan alive. The bar proved to be quite an opportunity. I could vault over it and drop a hammer kick on him, saying that would knock him out.

The men continued to talk, I had to think fast.

Then the men at the bar would have to be cuffed down, all except Doc. I trusted him to stay still and completely shocked. That would work. It would have to.

Then all at once, the dirty man threw an insult at Chekov. Bad move, I pulled my throwing knives out of my sleeves, chucked them then launched myself at Chekov, knocking him off balance. He went to draw his gun as the men from the bar registered the fight.

"Stay where you are!" I screeched, tackling Chekov and backhanding him across the jaw. The men sat back down, stunned silent. I delivered a knockout blow to Chekov's temple. He was a big man, that wasn't about to keep him down for long.

I threw the handcuffs at the men, drawing my Bowie knife.

"Cuff yourselves to the bar, now. That's a fucking order." I said, quietly. They all scrambled to comply, and Doc stared silent.

"Doc, sit down, your bar will be fine after this. Don't think about calling the police, don't think about getting involved. Unfortunately you all will witness this today. And for that," I pulled Chekov up over my shoulder, "I am truly sorry."

I pushed Chekov up against the wall, and then stabbed his jacket so he stood up. I decided that he should see my face when he woke up, and so I took off my disguise one piece at a time.

My hair tumbled out of the beanie, and I heard a gasp at the bar. There were outright cries when I took off the jacket and sunglasses. Maybe they had never seen a woman before, I mused.

I put my disguise down on a table, and lit up a new cigarette.

It didn't take long for Chekov to come 'round. He tried squirming, but I lazily threw a knife at his eyeball level.

"Ah, ah, I wouldn't do that, Ivan." I said, standing up. I began to pace and eye Chekov as he began to sweat and size me up.

"You do know who I am, right?" I asked him, chuckling.

"Nyet, you just a whore!" He screeched, his Russian accent coming out stronger.

I slammed my fist into his chest. "October 6th 1980. Cork, Ireland. You and two of your fat, stupid thugs killed a young couple. Their names were Bessie and Derrick." I said, dragging on my cigarette. "Bessie had a babe-in-arms. Not even three years old. And yet, you executed Bessie and Derrick in front of her, and then left her for dead."

He scoffed.

"I was that baby girl, Chekov. And now I've found you." I said, inches from his sweaty face. A shadow of doubt crossed his face.

"You an ugly whore." He said, spitting in my face.

Before he even shut his cursed mouth, I grabbed his tounge, pulling hard on it.

"Do that again, and you'll fucking die, Chekov."

"I no afraid of little girl" he said.

I threw a knife at his ballsack, missing by centimeters.

"Perhaps I remember killing now," Chekov said, visibly frightened.

"Why did you do it?" I demanded.

"They were liability" he said, "They knew much, they die for knowing." He stuttered.

"What did they know, jackass?"

"Too much."

The knife landed on the other side of his thigh.

"They knew too much about operations!" he said, hastily.

"Ivan, you're not helping yourself." I said, drawing my second bowie.

"They knew everyone. All the way up to top of ladder. They knew boss, location. They were giving away secrets. The Irish, they knew." He whimpered.

"Good, Ivan, good," I said, taking another drag. "Now tell me everything I need to know."

He spilled his guts out, eyes wild and face getting redder. A meeting, three days from now, in the financial district, paid for by Russian blood money. Apparently, Ivan thought that the top bosses would be there.

When he had finished his half-Russian garbleld information, I thanked him, patting him on the cheek.

Then I ran the big Bowie straight through his skull.

The men at the counter all cried out, and I heard the distinct sound of Doc stumbling back into the bottles. I quickly gathered my things, pulling my knives out of the wall and Chekov.

"Listen up, you bunch of assholes. What you saw here tonight? It didn't happen. Stay quiet, don't tell a soul." I looked at each one individually. "I found Chekov. And I killed Chekov. Don't be Chekov." And with that, I threw the handcuff key at Doc and ran out.


	5. Chapter 5

I heard the men from the bar following me as I ran. My feet carried me up two blocks, two of them in hot pursuit. Terrified, I pushed myself harder. How was I going to get rid of these men? Where could I go? What if I just gave myself over?

No.

I kept running, looking for a fire escape. Two minutes later, there it was. I checked behind me one more time, and then flew up the stairs. Shouts echoed off the building, my legs were burning. I couldn't stop now, I had to get to the cage.

The cage. Uncle Danny. The cage. Every footfall made my resolve stronger. The building I ran up was tall, much taller than the ones around it. I felt the men on the roof as they pulled themselves over. I turned to look at them.

"Boys." I said.

"What the fuck was that? You just fucking offed someone!" Their accents were heavy. "Who the fuck are you?" the darker-haired one said.

"That's for me to know, darling." I said, backing toward the ledge.

"Don't fucking play with us, girl!" So the spikey-haired one had a voice.

"I don't play games." And with that, I fell backwards.

They rushed the edge of the building, but it was too late, I was already gone. I could hear them yelling and screaming, but I just kept running. The cage was only a couple blocks ahead, Danny would have a nice fresh pack and some brews.

I slowed down a block outside the cage, and doubled over to catch my breath. Damn, I was lucky. Chekov could have killed me. But no, it was his blood slicking up the floor of that grungy little bar.

'Luck of the Irish.' I muttered to myself, straightening up and heading toward the cage. It was about two am now, Danny's scrappers were halfway through the night.

The man standing outside the cage was smoking the biggest cigar I had ever seen. I gingerly walked up to him.

"How you doing tonight?" he asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

"I'm a wee bit tired, but nothing Danny can't fix." I smiled up at him.

"He's been looking for you, Rhi. You'd better find him first. Fraught with worry, ol' Danny is."

"Will do, sir." I took my leave, racing down the stairs.

The yelling was deafening when I opened the soundproof door. I had no idea that so many people were going to roll out for this, I figured more drunks would be on the streets. But no, there were about 300 people in the little warehouse.

I pushed through the crowd, head down, feeling my way through the people to the opposite staircase.

Danny had an old apartment the next floor up, I was at least going to shower and then borrow some clothes. I swung the door to the hallway open, and there was Danny.

He was holding a picture of me, and I could see he was terrified.

"Dan? It's me! It's Rhi. I'm fine, see? Not even a…" I paused, pressing on my thighs. Yes I would have bruises, thank you. "… Well, I've got a bruise or two, but look, Danny, I'm alive."

He didn't raise his head immediately. Perhaps he was asleep, I thought, reaching out and touching his shoulder.

He stiffened.

I dropped to my knees, lacing my arms around him.

"Ye could have died." Danny said, holding onto my arm.

"Chekov didn't have a chance, Dannyboy!" I said, squeezing him.

"You smell like blood, Rhi."

"I need to shower, mind if I use the old apartment?"

"Nah, it's yours." He dug the key out of his pocket, handing it to me.

"I'm glad you're okay, Rhi. You had everyone worried."

"I know, Dan. But I don't think this is over just yet."

He stood up and looked up at me sadly. "I don't want to lose my lovely one."

"No promises, Dan. I can't make a promise, now."

"I know."

He walked away, leaving me kneeling. I slowly rose up. The shower might have to wait, I thought, I'm a little tired.

I reached the door and let it swing open, then vaulted onto the flimsy mattress. I need to sleep, I only have three days.


	6. Chapter 6

Three days later, I stood up from the mattress, dropping my cigarette into the ash tray. The thin noise from the radio was bothereing me, so I turned it off.

My heart was already beating fast when I stepped into the shower. Tonight, I would infiltrate the Russian family in Boston, using nothing but my wit, good looks, and Dan's .45. Needless to say, this plan was either going to flop or work out beautifully.

I lathered up and washed with some old hotel shampoo Dan brought me. My hair was going to take a while to dry, and I also had to apply accursed makeup. I had been dress shopping, and was just going to borrow shoes from Dan's wife.

The plan was shaky at best. But it was about all I could do working by myself in this case. None of the scrappers had the kahunas to help me, and the others were connected to the mob.

So again, I was alone. Whatever, I thought, stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around my hair. I brushed my teeth and got all my underthings on, then west about styling my hair.

It was a pain in the ass to work a brush through. The curls would all jumble together, and the length made it difficult to keep intact. I got out the crappy hotel blow-dryer and went to work.

The plan was simple, if I killed Yuri Petrov, the head of the Russians, my mom and dad could rest in peace. It was simple: infiltrate, kill, bugger off. The faster I could get the first couple of items done, the sooner I would accomplish the last one. Which, silly me, is the most important part.

I pinned my long curls into a pile on the top of my head. Parties and I didn't mix, unless it had fighting and more men than women. Unfortunately, tonight I was going to have to get out of my comfort zone. And my Russian was rusty.

The dress I had bought was a small, black number, with red and gold embroidery up the sides. It was curve-hugging, definitely something more feminine and uncomfortable that what I would have liked to buy. However, to pass as a prostitute, I'd have to tart it up.

I sighed, applying makeup carefully; the way children do to their mothers. The woman looking back at me was alien, beautiful but unfamiliar.

This night had to hurry up, I didn't want it to take forever. I was ready to be done with the killings and the blood.

It took me another half an hour to gather my heels and sharpen my knives. They were gonna have to go in my hair or some such nonsense. I didn't really know what to do. They couldn't go under this stupid tight dress, and I wasn't wearing much else. Instead, I grabbed a scarf to wrap around my shoulders, and then I could carry the knives with me. After that, I walked downtown, keeping my head low and pretending I wasn't visible.

When I got to the skyscraper the meeting was in, I ducked into a bathroom and ran into a stall. My butt made contact with the seat, and I just started breathing heavy. I was afraid, my fear outweighing any type of confidence I had.

It took a while, but I calmed down. Eventually it was just me being a drama queen and the Russians still alive upstairs.

I took the elevator. Chekov had said something about 20th floor penthouse, and so that's where I went. I exited the elevator, running into two of the biggest men I'd ever seen. They looked like those freaking Easter Island heads.

"Father Petrov sent me." I said, trying to sound surly and sexy. The two looked at each other, and then the one on the left spoke up.

"There's an important meeting going on right now, ma'am," he said in fast Russian, "Petrov can see you afterward."

"That isn't going to work out, darling." I said, drawing two of my knives and throwing them into the men's throats. They sputtered and then fell, the carpet absorbing much of their impact. I grabbed the one on the right and pulled him away from the door, out to where no one could see him, and then to the other one. I collected my knives and wiped them off on the collars of their shirts. I said a fast prayer, then pushed the main door open.

Shit. Chekov had fucked me over. I was the only woman, and one that they didn't know personally. Immediately, two of the men were on top of me, pinning my arms behind my back and pushing me to the floor.

"Is this how you men greet all the women?" I asked, in Russian. Maybe this would help me. It was worth a try, right?

"Nyet, just Danny Greene's little spies!" one of them roared in my ear, pulling me up off the floor by my hair. I struggled, but his assistant pounded his fist into my side, and I gasped. The two threw me into a chair and cuffed my arms in back of me.

"When will Danny come to get you, whore?" Yuri Petrov spit. I scowled and didn't answer. Petrov dragged me to the center of the room and began to talk loudly about how he was going to take down Danny from the inside, using me. I struggled against my cuffs, but it was nothing doing.

It was the end of the road for me. What would Danny do? If he was smart, he'd have my funeral, and give it up. The Russians knew everyone. I cursed under my breath.

"Listen, I think we got off on the wrong foot. I'm Rhiannon." Offering my name may help me a little.

"I know you, slut! I had your parents killed!" Petrov yelled, and his henchmen laughed. One of them walked up and punched me hard in the face. I felt my nose begin to bleed, and one of my teeth had cut my tongue.

Petrov and his men roared with laughter. "We will finish our meeting, then maybe have some fun with you." Petrov sneered, tapping his belly. "Keep her pretty. I like her pretty." He snarled.

One of the men took that to mean he should beat the rest of me up, and it was uncomfortable. I felt my shoulder snap out of joint, bruises and cuts on my legs, and two blows to the back of the head. If he kept this up, I would lose consciousness. Fast. My vision was already fuzzing up, my ears ringing.

Then, the ceiling caved in, and two men fell. I pushed myself over, snapping the chair and grabbing the legs cuffed to me. The two men pulled out matching guns and blasted all of Petrov's men. Petrov screamed and fell to the floor, right before the men cut themselves down. I jumped, landing squarely on Petrov.

He grunted, and I clubbed his head with the chair leg. He pulled his hands up, so I laid into his side. I felt his ribs crack and his breathing becoming labored.

Not that mine wasn't. I was woozy, and each blow was becoming more and more difficult. After maybe ten blows, I fell over, and lost consciousness.


	7. Chapter 7

Please be sure to review! I'm sorry it's taken so long to update this, but college got in the way.

Someone was touching my cheek. I opened my eyes, not knowing what to expect. I could hear water close, but also far in the distance. Fog surrounded me, but I could clearly make out the bed of green grass I was laying in, and a drop off about fifty yards away.

"Rhiannon." I heard a female voice say. "Rhiannon, wake up."

My arms were heavy, I couldn't see who the voice belonged to.

"Rhiannon! Get up, Little Hawk."

I pushed against the ground, but to no avail. The grass was awfully damp, I thought as I tried to sit.

"Help me. Please." I called out to the voices, but I didn't hear any movement toward me. "Please…"

"You can do it, Rhiannon. I know you can."

"No, I can't. My arms… Help me!" I cried, a little afraid.

Then I saw them.

She was not beautiful, but also not ugly. She had long red hair down to the middle of her back, pinned to her head. She wore a simple striped dress and a white apron, a pair of practical boots on her feet. She was a little overweight, and I could see crow's feet in her smile.

He was stern-looking. Tanned skin and dark hair, heavy brows and calloused hands. He wore a pair of coveralls, with a straw hat and mud-caked boots. He was much more in shape than she was, I could see the muscles ripple under his clothes.

They were standing on either side of my head, not reaching toward me, but looking concerned.

"I didn't know I raised a quitter." The man said, producing a cigarette from the front pocket of his coveralls.

"Would you please not do that near her? It's such a filthy habit!" The woman said, kneeling next to me. She reached out and patted my hair. "Come on, baby, we have something to show you."

My head was spinning. "What do you mean, raised me?" I asked, pushing again at the ground.

"Thought you'd end up smarter, too."

"What do you mean, God damn it!" I shouted, kicking at the man.

"Rhiannon, that is uncalled for. Apologize to your father."

"My parents are dead, lady, and I don't have time for this."

"Rhiannon… You're dead too." She said, reaching out again.

"No, I'm fucking not!" I growled.

"She's a lot like your father," the man said, sighing.

"More like your mother!"

"Bessie, she's just like old Donovan."

"She's like Tsah, look at her face. Really, Derrick, you're incredibly thick sometimes."

"Hold on, what?" I said.

"Get up, Little Hawk," the man said, again.

I gave a push, and then I was standing.

"Bessie… And Derrick… MacTaggert?" I asked, not wanting to believe it.

"Yes, baby girl, it's us!" Bessie threw her arms around me.

"Mom?!" She was sobbing into my coat, tightening her grip bit my bit. I stood there, in stunned silence. I wanted to believe it, but at the same time, I was scared to. What if this was a trick? Where was I?

"You must finish what you started. You've got to take a stand." Bessie pulled away, and backed toward Derrick.

"Wait, what?" I asked, suddenly confused.

"She wants you to end the criminals." Derrick said, placing his hand on Bessie's shoulder.

"How? I barely could kill Chekov! Wait!" I shouted, suddenly falling. They were fading away, back into the fog.

"Shit!" I bellowed, falling suddenly. The tile smacked me hard in the face, but I was up in a flash. I ran for the door, stumbling and punching through the stark apartment.

"Oy!" A male voice called, I heard footfalls behind me. "Oy, Connor, grab her!"

A hand clamped down on my arm and I spun, kicking into soft flesh. I heard a cry but didn't care, I threw open the door and barreled down the stairs.

I made it down two flights before strong arms grabbed me, rendering any physical attack useless.

I could taste my heart in my throat, I was afraid. I kept struggling, but whomever it was had thrown me over his shoulder and was hauling me back up the stairs. I couldn't scream, couldn't yell, couldn't attack.

Wherever we were going, I was travelling ass-first so I couldn't see. He was taking me back up the stairs, back into that little dank room and the other man.

Fear crashed through my veins again, what if these men were going to hurt me? I had killed Chekov, some of the Russian mob, and these two could very easily be a part of it. I struggled again, but again, to no avail.

The one man kicked the door open, and then threw me down onto a mattress. I pulled my legs back and kicked out, hard, landing on the floor and putting up my dukes. Damn them if I wasn't gonna go out fighting.

"Oy, girl, calm yerself." The dark-haired one said, putting his hands up.

"We ain't gonna hurt you." The light haired one said.

It was the two men from the bar.

"Who the fuck are you two? Where am I?"

"We're Connor and Murphy McManus. You remember us from the bar, little girl? And, if you can remember that far back, we also saved your ass"

"Literally!" Murphy said.

"… Literally, from the Russians a couple nights ago." Connor finished.

I thought a second, then asked, "So why did you save me?"

They looked at each other, then Murphy spoke up.

"Eh, we figured you could help us." He scratched his back, then continued, "We're going for the Italians now that the Russians are gone."

I looked at them in shock. These two men, who barely knew me, wanted me to fight for them, kill for them, and make war with some men that I barely knew.

Just then, the door banged open.

"Hey! Rocco!" Connor yelled, jumping up to slap him on the back.

"This here's Roc, he's our Italian on the inside."

"David Della Rocco, call me Rocco."

The dirty one from the bar. Fuck, it was the dirty man from the bar.

"Just exactly how big is this operation?"

"Us two, Roc… And you. If you want in." Murphy said, giving me a look.

What was I supposed to do? I couldn't join them, that was too risky. I couldn't not join them, they needed all the help they could get. So I did the only logical thing.

I laughed.


End file.
